


And the Lamb Will Conquer

by Anonymous



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alpha Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Bond, Not Beta Read, Omega Jacob Seed, Omega John Seed, Omega Joseph Seed, Soulmates, The Deputy Doesn't Deserve This
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:48:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24001603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Rook liked being a police officer, he really did. He was an alpha, which commanded attention and made crooks too scared to pull any bullshit with him. But this? A doomsday cult? Four psychopathic siblings? Three of whom were his mates? He wanted no part of this, at all.
Relationships: Male Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Male Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Male Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed
Comments: 4
Kudos: 137
Collections: Anonymous





	And the Lamb Will Conquer

**Author's Note:**

> Oh yikes. So I finally had the courage to post up this little snippet of Far Cry 5 fanfiction that I wrote like last year. I know the summary is pretty bad, but I can't write good summaries for shit. Hope you guys like it. Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Rook had a bad feeling about this.

Which was a fucking understatement, considering that they were walking right through a religious complex filled with religious fanatics wielding guns that should only be made available to the military, not civilians who had _no need_ _for them_ _whatsoever_. And the fact that they were coming through to arrest their leader, which would most likely not sit well with any of them. Plus, and Rook looked at the marshal, this arrest plan was probably the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. He was one hundred percent sure that Joseph Seed will not willingly come along with them without at least putting up a fight.

So yeah, Rook had a fucking bad feeling about this.

It didn’t help at all that none of the peggies were on suppressants and their scents were being thrown around everywhere like a fucking weapon. Rook could scent alphas, betas, omegas, and _fuck_ wasn’t there some rule about no fornication? 

He forced himself to pull his eyes away from the wriggling naked bodies, allowed himself to take a deep breath, regretting it instantly when the scent of an omega flowed through his nose. 

“Look at them,” the marshal, the man, the myth, the legend, said, nose scrunched up in disgust, “They’re like animals.”

“I’m trying _not_ to look at them, marshal,” Sheriff Whitehorse told him.

As they drew closer to the church, the scent of omegas strengthened. He was sure that if he weren’t on suppressants, he would feel the full brunt of their scent and he would lose it, which made him even more pissed than he already was. Rook never liked the alpha-omega dynamic, he hated it in fact. It never made sense to him why there had to be dominant and submissive roles in relationships and he hated the fact that alphas could bend omegas to their will.

He doesn’t want to be that kind of alpha. He refuses to be.

Keeping his head down, Rook instead focused on the snarls of the dogs, the crackling of the huge fire—he had a mind to ticket whoever started that fire, it was a fucking safety hazard—the hisses from the cultists to leave, and the ominous singing coming from the church that was slowly fading into view.

When at last they made it to the entrance of the surprisingly quaint church, _he was sure that his hometown church looked like this_ , Sheriff Whitehorse made sure to question the marshal one last time: _is this really what you want to do? Are you sure?_

But the marshal only laughed in his face, all sanctimonious and self-righteousness. Burke; overconfident and egotistical just because he was a U.S. marshal and they were supposedly dumb cops from a county in who-knows-where Montana. He just couldn’t _see_ how fucked this situation was, how bizarre it was that this cult got so powerful so fast without the police department even knowing about it. And by the time they found out, when it was so obvious that you’d have to be stupid not to realize, it was too late.

Big-head Burke clapped Whitehorse on his shoulder, a condescending smile on his face. “ _Relax_ , sheriff,” he said so pompously that Rook saw red, “You’re about to get your name in the papers.”

Rook exchanged a look with Hudson, glad to see that they were on the same page about their opinion on Burke.

The marshal threw open the church doors with no regard for the sermon inside, abruptly cutting of the singing and leaving a silence much more terrifying. Rook nearly winced as dread shot down his spine. Being raised Catholic drilled it into him that whenever you enter a church, no matter the circumstance, you do so as quietly as possible.

Down the aisle stood the four seed siblings, with Joseph Seed smack dab in the middle, spewing on some shit about their arrival being an omen of sorts once he caught sight of them like he knew they were coming. But Rook couldn't even muster the focus to listen to what he was saying because his alpha senses were tingling, telling him that his omegas were here. 

And when Rook followed Burke and Whitehorse into the church, a scent hit him hard, smacked him right in the chest and he gasped, unintentionally taking in more of the scent, and something primal in screamed that this was _them_ , _his soulmates_. 

He heard Joseph falter in his speech, his voice hitching—and _god_ what a beautiful sound it was—as he took in Rook's scent. He watched as the father's eyes dart right over to him, nostrils flaring, eyes glazing over as he stared at Rook like he was a gift from the Lord himself and Rook only pulled his eyes away because his second mate made a tiny noise and drew his attention away.

John Seed let out a whimper when their eyes met, baring his throat and—

 _Fuck_. 

Rook was _so fucking glad_ he took his suppressants because that one move would've been enough to make him charge down the aisle and claim his mate right there, have him gasping and pleading underneath him like the good little omega he was—

Suddenly, he felt a hand at the small of his back and it startled him enough to look away from his mates and to Sheriff Whitehorse, who looked perturbed at the Seed's sudden mood shift. Seeing the sheriff was enough to make the blood in his veins turn cold, sobering him up, and reminding him the reason he was here. Rook covered his nose with his hand, wishing that he had a gas mask, that he didn’t choose Hope County as his home, wanting to run out of this church, get on a plane, and never look back because he dreamed of meeting his soulmate for _years_ and now he finally had.

Now he knew that he was blessed— _cursed_ —with three instead of one, that they were all so heartbreakingly beautiful and lovely that he could weep, but as beautiful as they were, they were still psychopathic, murderous, doomsday cult leaders that Rook has heard so many horror stories about. He read the reports about Jacob, heard complaints about John, and he saw the video of Joseph gouging out a man’s eyes.

He wanted to throw up. For so long he had wanted this and now he just wanted to _die_.

A growl erupted from the front of the room and all eyes fell on Jacob Seed, whose baby blue eyes were staring at the sheriff’s hand like he wished he could rip it off.

Realization dawned on the sheriff’s face and when his eyes met Rook’s, there was a painful amount of understanding and pity in them that made him want to scream.

“They will _take_ from us,” Joseph continued, voice growing in volume as he preached to his followers, his eyes locked on Rook, “Take our _guns_. Take our _freedom_. Take _our faith_!”

The pews and floorboards creaked as the peggies stood up, their eyes glaring at them, full of hatred for the intruders and devotion for their father.

“ _We will not let them_ ,” Rook could see how unnerved Burke was and couldn’t even be smug about it because he was freaking the fuck out too.

“Sheriff c’mon. . .”

“Just hold on marshal,” Whitehorse assured him.

“We will not let their greed, or their immorality, or their depravity hurt us anymore!”

“Sheriff . . .” Burke repeated, fingering his pistol, but the sheriff was quick to placate him, trying to calm him down.

“There will be no more suffering—

But Burke seemed to have had enough and quickly cut off Joseph’s words. “You know what? Fuck this. Joseph Seed! I have a warrant issued for your arrest under the . . .”

As the marshal told him what he was being arrested for, Rook’s traitorous eyes drifted to the last of his soulmates, unable to withstand the pull to look. Jacob was already staring at him with a defiant gleam in his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest, and head tilted to the side almost in mockery. The defiance in his eyes made the alpha in him laugh—and he _hated_ the alpha side of him, _hated_ it—delighted, thinking about having Jacob under him, begging for him, pleading for him as Rook knotted him.

Unintentionally, Rook’s lips quirked into a smirk as he stared at his mate and just to be a little shit he licked his bottom lip. The results were satisfying to say the least. Jacob’s breath punched out of him, his hands clenching hard at his arms.

However, his victory was short-lived as a peggie came to stand in front of him, blocking his view of his soulmate. For a moment, Rook contemplated ripping the guy’s head off for daring to stand between an alpha and his mates, but he quickly shoved that thought away.

Burke muttered something under his breath as Joseph went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “They’ve come for me,” he was leisurely walked towards them all the while his peggies were slowly closing in on them, “They’ve come to take me away from you,” and his reverent voice took on a twinge of anger as he said, “They’ve come to destroy all that we’ve built!”

Tensions were high in the room as the peggies began yelling at them to leave, to go back to where they came from, that they weren’t welcome here, while Whitehorse was screaming at everyone to _calm the fuck down._ Rook was on high alert, his hands itching to reach for his gun as well. He always hated the peggies, couldn’t stand how they obsessively talked about the father and his vision and the gleam in their eyes like they wanted to kill whenever they looked at anyone who wasn’t one of them, but he couldn’t take it out. It was one thing to use your gun for defense, but it was a whole ‘nother thing to take it out in a church full of crazy, armed cultists who seemed to have an affinity for violence and murder.

The one in front of him nearly shoved him but was quickly stopped by a hand on his shoulder. When he turned, the wrath in the man’s eyes faded to one of absolute devotion as he stared at Joseph the father.

But Joseph only had eyes for Rook when he told his followers, “We’ve prepared for this. God will not let them take me.”

Abruptly, as if Joseph had turned off a switch on them, the peggies began filing out of the church. The father was talking again, but Rook ignored it, making sure to watch all the peggies leave before turning back to his soulmate.

“And hell followed with him,” Joseph held his hands in front of him; an offering.

And, _of course_ , the marshal had to input something as he commanded, “Rook, cuff this son of a bitch.”

Jacob, John, and Faith bristled at the marshal’s insult, but Rook only had eyes for the father. He swallowed hard, unable to shake the sense of foreboding he felt as blue eyes tinted green by yellow sunglasses stare at him.

“God will not let you take me,” he whispered, still staring right into his eyes.

Rook was frozen. His hands clutched at the handcuffs, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Dread shot down his spine once again, more pronounced than before. Somehow, this all felt like a huge mistake and once he cuffed Joseph, there would be no going back from that. No way to fix it.

His mind flashed back to when he was fourteen with his friend, Blake, at a convenience store. They were at the candy aisle, which for some reason was at the back of the store. He and Blake were arguing about which candy was superior: snickers or milky way. They had been debating for so long that he was almost ready to just let Blake win, so they could just go home when a big, muscular man stormed into the store with a gun in his hand.

Rook remembered pulling Blake with him behind the candy shelf as the man threatened the cashier, who was sobbing as he attempted to open the cash register to give the man the money. They watched for a moment as the cashier seemed to struggle, angering the man and making him shove the gun right in his face.

He remembered feeling his pockets for his phone before realizing he didn’t have it with him and turned towards Blake to ask if he had his phone.

But Blake wasn’t there.

Horror spiked through Rook’s veins as he frantically surveyed the store for Blake, finding him approaching the man from behind. He wanted to yell out for Blake to come back, to beg him not to do this, but if he did, the man would find his friend, and Rook _couldn’t_ let that happen. He was so horrified he was sure he would throw up as the scene unfolded.

The cashier got the register open and was giving the man the money.

Blake ran at him from behind, jumping on his back and punching him in the head.

The man roared, grabbing Blake with his gigantic hands. Small, skinny Blake who still looked like an eight-year-old child.

He hurled Blake off him and Rook watched helpless as his friend sailed through the air and collided with the wall with a sickening crunch.

The man hurried out of the store as the cashier screamed at the sight, sobbing as he ran for the phone.

Rook was already moving towards his friend, his blood ice in his veins as he stared at the crack in Blake’s skull, at the blood pooling under his head, at the light in his grey eyes dying out.

And then Rook was screaming, sobbing as he clutched at his best friend, burying his face in his chest, unable to hear or feel a heartbeat. Screaming why he had to go and try to fight the man, about how they all would’ve been fine, about how it was just money and it wasn’t worth losing his life over.

When the police finally came, Rook was soaked in Blake’s blood, still clutching him with the cashier sitting next to him, rubbing his back in what he assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture.

Blake was declared a hero for his actions and the chief of police even came to his funeral to speak.

But Rook never understood. Blake didn’t need to be a hero. He was only fourteen, short and skinny and there was nothing, literally nothing he could’ve done to stop a man almost seven feet tall who weighed more than four Blakes combined. He should’ve just let the guy get away with the money. If he had, he would still be alive.

Blake would still be alive.

Back in the present, Rook slipped the cuffs onto Joseph, ignoring how it felt like he just doomed everyone in Hope County.

He thought back to Blake and how he should’ve just stayed with him behind the candy shelf. How Blake shouldn’t have done anything because what he did didn’t fix the situation, it worsened it.

Because sometimes the best thing to do . . . was to walk away.


End file.
